


A Continuance (Is Not a Stay of Execution)

by 1shinymess (magpie4shinies)



Series: Extenuating Circumstances [2]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-25
Updated: 2011-10-25
Packaged: 2017-10-24 23:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magpie4shinies/pseuds/1shinymess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a dinner party for the clients, Mike and Harvey encounter someone neither of them wants to see. Set after episode three.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Continuance (Is Not a Stay of Execution)

The night started getting weird for Mike when Harvey caught him checking out the Russian guy at the party.

He'd already made one complete circuit of the room and was resting near a wall when his attention was caught by a strange motion, out of order with the reserved gestures and smooth, gliding walks of the wealthy clients of Pearson Hardman.

He'd glanced over the left half of the room and found Mikhail Dolzhikov removing his tuxedo jacket with a snap, folding it over his arm and presenting it to a bemused server. The removal left him in a crisp white oxford-style shirt, neatly tailored and gathered at the back to highlight the way his broad shoulders narrowed into his trim stomach.

Mike found himself staring in obvious appreciation for several seconds before he remembered where he was. The party was for the clients in the area to come and mingle and speak with their very expensive attorneys in a social setting. It was also a way to introduce the more promising associates to those clients, put names to faces and begin relationships which would be useful in the event that they made partner. Essentially, everyone who could help or hinder his career was within 300 meters of him at any given time, and had the chance to see him staring like an idiot.

He closed his mouth.

Mike wasn't usually very obvious about appreciating men. It wasn't that he was ashamed, but it also wasn't something he'd had a lot of luck with in the past. He'd been caught off guard when the blond had taken off his jacket and his pants had highlighted the most amazing ass he'd ever seen, man or woman, and Dolzhikov had been pleasant when Mike had found himself in his group, and handsome enough in his tuxedo to make Mike appreciate his recall all over again.

When he took his coat off and showed off what an excellent tailor could do with an ass sculpted by God, it was icing on a mental cupcake Mike intended to set aside for later. So he was able to force the rather lascivious look off of his face and looked away, only to encounter Harvey staring at him with his knowing, amused expression--something he usually saw at the office before or after performing some trick that could save or over-complicate a case that much further--tinted with a little curiosity.

At work, that expression could mean Mike had just surprised Harvey with something he wanted done, or that Mike was about to spend the next twelve hours wishing for a way to apologize for a crime he didn't know he'd committed. Or both.

He then watched Harvey navigate the room like a pro, trying to keep his dread quiet and calm as he ended his traversal beside Mike in his otherwise empty little patch in front of the unremarkable space on the wall.

Mike wavered briefly under the weight of his potential wrath, tottering between embarrassment and nonchalance. Finally he shrugged and leaned in. "Did you know he's a gymnast?"

Harvey snorted, mouth curling into the familiar smirk. "Nothing to write home about."

Relief that Harvey really wasn't pissed immediately took a backseat to curiosity. Was Harvey intentionally implying that he knew from personal experience that the _rich Russian gymnast_ wasn't worth pursuing?

...yeah. A way to flaunt his ego? Of course he was all over it. And, of course, the minute Mike processed that, he realized he had to be very careful if he wanted to ask any questions. No matter how distracted the other people were, there was always the chance someone would approach in the middle of a question they really shouldn't have heard.

But he _was_ desperately curious, which Harvey must have anticipated it, judging by his smirk. Mike looked around and then stepped closer to him. "Did you... _seriously_?"

Harvey tilted his head forward. "You think I couldn't?"

"Uh...no, no that's not what I think," Mike admitted frankly. "I just...didn't think you'd _want_ to."

Harvey shrugged and casually swept the room with his eyes. "I get bored easily. It wasn't...trying, but it wasn't particularly fulfilling either."

Mike stared at him for a long moment as a sort of reluctant amusement rose in him. "Of course. God forbid Harvey Specter be _bored_ ," he said, rolling his eyes. "What do you do...try something new every time you come to one of these?"

Harvey smirked into his glass. "I like new experiences."

Harvey was still watching him thoughtfully even as he took a sip of his champagne. The angle of his body was a subtle twist that kept Mike in his prime field of view while still allowing him to watch for oncoming clients, his dark hair perfectly placed and the faint gold glow of his skin reflecting the diffused light of the chandelier.

A waiter passed by a small cluster of people not too far away and Mike caught his eye to call him over. At least champagne would help distract him a little.

Harvey glanced at him when he sidled back to his original spot. Slightly awkward under the attention when he didn't have a task he was completing for Harvey, Mike shifted slightly. "So. Who do you think you'll...try, tonight?"

And then he winced because that was even _less_ appropriate than their prior conversation, and also, discussing Harvey's _sexual exploits_ was not the best way to get his mind off of the way the crisp white collar of his shirt framed his neck. _It would mostly cover a bite mark--Oh, God, Ross, stop right there._

Of course Harvey was looking when he came to the completely useless realization that his shirt would hide any marks made at the base of his neck. And of course, he didn't have the decency to pretend he hadn't just caught Mike checking him out. At least the response wasn't anything but smirk #4, arrogant with a side of knowing and a flavor of acceptance of due attention. (This one, Mike usually saw in court or over negotiations with opposing counsel.)

It was a little irritating, how much free amusement he was providing to Harvey in his attempt to keep up with the conversation. He took a breath, forcing himself to concentrate on the feeling of air expanding his lungs and tried to calm down.

At least Harvey didn't have an issue with the occasional gay moment, right? A little calmer, Mike could embrace the relief there again. Yes, and _thank God._ But still.

Mike may have entertained thoughts about biting Harvey's jaw, or sucking hickeys onto his wrists, or exploring the ideas he'd gotten from those sites online-- _the point was_ , Harvey's casual, callous arrogance when he was working with people still annoyed the shit out of Mike sometimes. "I'm sorry, do you need some alone time with your _massive ego_?"

Harvey laughed softly, a tilt of a brow conceding...something. After a moment where they both looked over the wealthy elite of upstate New York and Massachusetts, Harvey spoke. "I've been to one party or another with almost everyone here."

Mike looked at him, head tilting curiously. "So...anyone interesting enough for a second round?"

Harvey's mouth quirked up and he waited a beat before looking at Mike, reminding him that yes, he was talking about his boss' _sex life_ and was that really appropriate? Before he could back track, Harvey answered. "Not really. And even if there was, I'd rather go for something new first."

Mike wasn't sure if he wanted to continue the conversation, but God knew it was the only one he'd enjoyed at all tonight, so... "OK, but you said nobody new was here."

Harvey looked at him from the side for a moment and then shifted, giving Mike more attention than he was really comfortable with in public. "Is that what I said?"

Mike ran through their conversation in his mind, recalling the words perfectly, even the inflection as Harvey had said _I've been to one party or another with_ almost _everyone here._

"Ah," Mike let out, enlightened. His eyes almost automatically--even slightly unwillingly on his part--began to survey the crowd for a likely candidate. He immediately disregarded anyone he recognized, assuming that if he knew them as partners on sight that they'd been attending these parties before he joined the firm. Same with the associates, since they'd all been with the firm longer than Mike had.

 _So he's probably pulling from the dates. Hm..._ Mike looked the crowd over, disregarding anyone who seemed too comfortable with their date or had a ring on: Harvey avoided _those_ complications like a pro.

"The brunette with Stinson?" he finally asked, glancing back at Harvey curiously. She was pretty enough to be invited to this event, and she'd actually seemed almost as bored as Mike felt when they'd been introduced.

Harvey looked in that direction and smiled. "Ah, Helen. No, but not a bad guess. She's actually someone who'd be on my very short list for a second round."

Mike laughed. "Classy..."

"Practical," Harvey shrugged.

" _Right_..." Mike took a breath and let it out slowly. "Well, I don't know who it is, but good luck man. Want me to..." he waved a hand away from where they were, wordlessly offering to disappear so Harvey could pick up his evening's companion.

Harvey snorted. "First, I'm insulted that you think I couldn't get _anyone_ in this room, with or without you tagging along like my chaperon."

Mike held up his hands immediately in surrender. "Sorry, sorry."

Harvey gave a look that said he was only partially appeased by Mike's immediate surrender, but continued. "Second, you're a bit dim for someone who scored a 187 on the Bar."

Mike blinked. He'd learned to analyze the content of Harvey's statements before giving into an emotional response to them. Yes, Harvey had insulted him (mildly, for him) but... "You checked? You _remembered_?"

Harvey looked at him frankly. "You knew I was checking you out. Your entry to the Bar had to be legit. You realize the only reason they admitted you was your score, right? I'm honestly surprised they didn't accuse you of cheating."

"Well, I sat up front on purpose. You remembered my score." Mike looked at Harvey curiously.

Harvey rolled his eyes. "I remember the Yankees' 2003 batting order too."

"Oh, ha ha, you're insulting me again...fine, I'll let that go. Even though it's _incredibly sweet,_ no matter how you try to play it off. What am I missing, then?"

Harvey looked at him, mouth pursed faintly like he was thinking of all of the ways someone as socially inept as Mike could crash and burn, and then he very casually--and slowly--looked him over.

Mike froze. As Harvey's gaze drifted over him, shocked denial echoed in his mind like a bell. _Harvey did not actually just deliberately wait for me to pay attention to him to_ check me out. _Harvey doesn't do that. I've never seen Harvey do that. He just...he just...goes home with Russian gymnasts._

_...oh._

So it was conceivable that Harvey had just deliberately caught Mike's attention and then looked Mike over like he was wearing a $25,000 tuxedo personally for his enjoyment. (Which he sort of was, since this was one of Rene's creations, and he only suffered that experience again because Harvey ordered him to, _but that was beside the point._ )

"You did _not_ just do that," Mike said, almost dumbly, even as he thought _Oh, my God, he really did. That just happened,_ while the practicalities of Harvey -- sometimes? -- liking men really began sinking in.

Harvey grinned. It had a playful edge, less arrogant than his smirk had been. "Do what, Mike?" he asked, glancing down where he was twirling his glass of champagne between his fingers.

Mike blinked and then opened his mouth...and closed it. Then he opened it again. "Don't try and pull that--"

It was probably the tone. Even Mike could admit to himself that his tone had gotten a little shrill. He still didn't like Harvey laughing at him. "Do you need a minute? No, it's OK, go ahead and laugh. Get it all out."

Harvey waved a hand through the air and quickly resumed a more composed expression. "Go on."

Yeah. That was when he really noticed the strange vibe.

He was even more sensitive to Harvey's mood than he normally was, and Harvey's attention seemed to have a direct line to his dick. Mike now also understood some of the finer points Rene had delicately explained to him about the line of his pants, and was doubly glad he'd just gone ahead and followed his advice on underwear.

Every time he started to calm down from the whole strange situation, Harvey would give him another look: he'd catch him staring at his mouth, at his ass, his hips, or _he'd_ catch sight of Harvey's jaw or absently ogle his _hands_ and he'd remember he was allowed to look, found himself tripping over the idea that it was not only allowed but also encouraged, and he'd be even further down the road to brain-hurting confusion and blue balls.

They still had at least two hours before they could leave, by Harvey's standards. Never mind that Mike was a grown man with no reason to listen to Harvey outside of the office besides these awful habits he'd developed over the last three months where _Harvey says_ somehow acquired an element of _spoke the voice from the burning bush_.

It was with pathetic gratitude that he trailed Harvey to a few key farewells and then followed behind him to the coat room. He even waited until they were in the limousine before calling him out for being a controlling jackass, which was either a sign of growing restraint or--likelier--a sign that he'd taken a few steps further down the road of faithful acolyte.

"Why would you do that?!"

Harvey smiled pleasantly at Mike's outrage, legs stretching out comfortably in a way that somehow required his thighs to be spread wide enough to draw the eye. "What do you mean?"

Mike's eyebrows hitched incredulously. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm referring to the _last two hours_?"

Harvey held the bland, pleasant expression for about three seconds--really, it involved more of a smirk than could really be called bland on anybody else--before his honest victory smirk broke through. "I had to save you from _Mikhail_. The man is like a black hole."

Mike blinked. _What just. Does he really. What?_ "You had to save me. Please explain that."

"He's not worth the drama, rookie, I promise," Harvey said, waving a hand through the air and leaning back into the plush pale gray leather seats of the limo. "He's either a complete asshole or worse, he gets _clingy_. It's awful. He doesn't understand if you try to gently brush him off but he's too _sensitive_ for a blunt 'go to hell'--considering the money he brings into the firm. He eats time, and right now, yours belongs to me."

"I wasn't going to _say anything_ to the man! He's a _client_!"

Harvey looked at him thoughtfully. "I actually believe that. You're going to be a unique lawyer when I'm done with you." He continued while Mike was sputtering. "Either way, you got to spend the last two hours in my company. Are you complaining?"

Mike sat back, letting his shock fade and trying to think things through objectively. "Except for the part where I spend anywhere from five to fifteen hours a day in your company _anyway_...I guess not."

Then he looked at Harvey frankly, "Was the whole _undressing me with your eyes_ thing really necessary?"

Harvey tilted his head down, smiling a little. Mike recognized it as his _Mike just said something clever or funny but God forbid I let him know_ expression. "Were you bothered? I'll apologize if you can convince me I was mistaken about you _eye-fucking_ me first."

Mike winced a little at the blunt statement and Harvey arched an eyebrow at him. "Oh, please. We both know you've been eying me up since you showed up to that interview in the _Chilton_ ," Harvey said. "I'll admit, I was briefly unsure if it was a case of hero worship, you know, _I want to be just like Daddy when I grow up_ , but the third time I noticed you checking out my ass, _I figured it out_."

Mike knew he was turning vaguely red and looked away. He happened to look in the same direction Louis was in and the man sneered at him.

Mike decided the conversation with Harvey was safer--and easier on the eyes--and looked back at him. "But..." _How to ask this question?_ "If you--"

"OK, I'll be honest. I really knew it the first time. Corroborating evidence is never bad to have unless it's the opposing council that has it. Remember that."

Mike pursed his lips, took a breath through his nose and then tried again. "Why didn't you say anything?" he asked after a long moment. "I mean..." He waved a hand between them. "If you don't care about the whole...occasional gay thing..."

Harvey shrugged. "Had to be sure you could cut it. And...I figured you were distracted enough with holding your first real job, you didn't need any more on your plate."

"Ah. And...you let me know now, because..."

"I guess it had to do with this habit of I've gotten into, saving your ass."

Mike's eyebrows twitched sup slightly and he started to smile. "Sounds a lot like _caring_ , Harvey."

Harvey rolled his eyes. "Please. I didn't want to give you the chance to emotionally imprint on that douche-bag and come into work crying because he was bad in bed or he didn't call you back. Or worse, if he _did_ call you back. Ugh."

"I'd be distracted at work," Mike offered, nodding solemnly. "By the guy I didn't intend to approach in the first place. Right. Thanks for that."

Harvey stared him down and they might have actually engaged in a staring contest, of all things, if the car hadn't slowed to a stop. Mike glanced out the window and saw his apartment building. "Thanks for a good night," he offered, smiling at Harvey as he pushed the door open.

Harvey rolled his eyes. "I didn't take you to Homecoming, I don't expect you to put out."

Mike laughed, leaning on the car. "Good. I'm not that kind of girl anyway." Then he stepped back, hand on the edge of the door to close it, head turning toward his building's door, and then he froze.

"Mike?" Harvey asked from the car. "I'm serious. It was a company sponsored dinner."

Mike didn't look away from Trevor.

"Mike?" Harvey asked again, just his name, but in a more serious tone. It was enough to get Mike's attention. He tried to smooth his expression over but when he ducked down to smile reassuringly,

Harvey's eyes narrowed. "OK...yeah, not buying it. Move. I'm coming out."

Mike obeyed automatically even as he argued, because that was what he did now. "Harvey, it's nothing, really--"

"OK, great," Harvey said, hand emerging to grip the side of the door frame and pulling himself out of the car. "It'll be nothing I can see, then, won't it."

Mike's stomach twisted and he glanced back at Trevor, who was staring at him now with an expression he'd never seen before--not at him, no, passed him, at Harvey.

He quickly looked back at Harvey, doing his best not to somehow tell Harvey _hey, my ex-best friend who's a drug dealer is here, also I've seen him after you told me not to, and we kind of punched each other, and I kissed his girlfriend_ somehow with his eyes.

Harvey stared at him narrowly and then slowly surveyed the street. Mike watched his head turn with his heart hammering in his throat. When his attention seemed passed Trevor, his shoulders relaxed narrowly.

Apparently, Harvey was also a master of reading body language. And figuring out things he shouldn't be able to know based upon three seconds of observation. " _Ah._ "

 _Shit._ Mike thought, eyes closing briefly. "I didn't...ah. I didn't try and..." he started quietly, shifting closer to Harvey.

Harvey looked back at him narrowly, almost angry, and Mike hoped his weird powers were picking up _I am SO sorry, and I really, really didn't instigate this at all_.

Harvey looked back at Trevor with that same dangerously neutral expression before he very casually waved Mike back another step, closed his door and moved to the front of the limo. He knocked on the door and then spoke too quietly for Mike to hear him.

Mike swallowed, eyes moving unwillingly back to Trevor, standing against the brick facade of his shitty apartment building in one of his remaining $2,000 suits, looking like a parody of the friend he used to be.

"So, this is it?" Trevor called, mouth an ugly twist.

Mike couldn't help comparing his smirk to Harvey's and found it wanting. "What are you doing here?"

The limo pulled off and Trevor finally moved, pushing off of Mike's building and coming closer. Trevor had been broader than him for years: in high school, he'd even played football. It had never been something to think about though. They'd never really fought after puberty. He hadn't had time to really think about how stupid fighting with Trevor was during their brief encounter two weeks ago because he'd been so angry.

He wasn't angry now, just ill with guilt and fear. He hadn't invited Trevor over now, no, but he had gone to his place. And he hadn't told Harvey about Jenny's visit or his fight with Trevor. On top of that, a familiar stab of pain was flaring behind his eyes. _Fantastic._

"You fucking him?" Trevor asked, still angry, still aggressive, but stopping a bit out of arms reach. He had Mike's messenger bag clenched in one hand and then he let it go, let it hit the ground.

Mike forced through the pain. "What?"

"I don't believe you, man. Jesus Christ, I can't sell pot but you can peddle your ass for some rich motherfucker who wants to play Santa to the underprivileged?" Trevor sneered.

Tired and in pain, Mike found himself vaguely distant from the filth coming out of his friend's mouth, caught somewhere between the sick feeling of guilt and embracing the anger that was trying to ignite. "No, really. Trevor. _What the hell?_ "

"And you're such a hypocrite! Like I didn't save your ass in high school? You're nothing without me! I kept everyone off your back despite your _fits_ , _I_ figured out how to help your stupid _stress headaches_! Weren't too good for pot back then, were you? _Trevor, my head hurts so bad, man...what should I do?_ God, you were so _pathetic_. And now you're--God, I can't even say it."

And there was the anger breaking through the guilt and the pain. He clenched his jaw without thinking about it, trying to maintain his composure, but it intensified the pain in his head. His knees weakened briefly and all of his attention went to staying upright.

Trevor didn't even notice. "I can't believe I wasted _years of my life_ on you. And then you come to me offering help. When have you _ever_ helped me? You just--and with money you got from _this guy_? You must've gotten some practice since the last time you tried sucking dick if you're waving around money like--"

Mike took a deep breath, pushing the pain down. "You don't know a god damned thing about my life right now," he said, doing his damnedest to keep from shouting. It wouldn't help his migraine any. "And you needed me just as much as I needed you! You're just pissed because it actually looks like _maybe you needed me more._ I offered to help you because you _were_ my friend, because _Jenny's_ my friend, and she came to me, _she loves you_ , God knows why--"

Trevor flinched subtly and Mike's anger started to abate at the open sign of injury. Of course, Trevor didn't get the memo or didn't care, still reacting to Mike's apparently really well aimed shot in the dark like an animal, fight or flight.

Mike watched him struggle and the anger drained out of him. "You going to hit me again?" he asked, almost dully. _How did this happen?_ he wondered. _How did I...let this happen?_

Trevor jerked forward and Mike just...closed his eyes. _Let this be over._

"That's enough."

Mike flinched. _Oh, God. Harvey. I can't believe I forgot._

"Hi, I'm Harvey Specter. I don't expect you to have the good taste to know me. To clarify: I'm a lawyer. Mike's boss, _not_ his sugar daddy. I don't tend to sleep with my employees, otherwise we wouldn't be here, having this conversation. I would've taken him home to my incredibly luxurious apartment and eaten sashimi off of his stomach. Or maybe I would've just fucked him in my shower. Lots of room, bars: could get pretty creative."

 _Wow._ Mike guessed as shock tactics went, that was an effective wedge to shake Trevor from his temper. It was even briefly enough to distract him from the pain flaring in his temples and behind his eyes.

"Now, Mike's a grown man who can do whatever the _hell he wants_ with his life, including taking it back from the black hole of your _friendship._ Oh, and earlier when I said I was a lawyer, I was being modest: I'm a senior partner at _very_ competitive private law firm who _happens_ to be good friends with the District Attorney."

That sounded a lot like Harvey defending him. Caring about him. If he wasn't busy trying to fend off the first stress headache he'd had in a month, he'd probably appreciate the sight. He had a brief moment of gratitude for his memory, even through the pain it was bringing at the moment. Later, he could remember this and play it back when he wasn't fighting off nausea and pain and actually figure out how he could tease Harvey about it. (If he was still allowed to do that.)

"If you ever put yourself within 50 feet of Mike again, I will make absolute certain your name gets brought up to my friend. Not only will you get as _much jail time_ as the system allows, you'll never be able to sell your shit without a cop looking over your shoulder again."

Harvey's voice moved closer and Mike instinctively turned toward him, bracing himself for the potential pain of opening his eyes.

"You know what? I changed my mind." A sound like a car door opening.

Mike cracked his eyes open slowly, grateful when there were no new jolts of pain in his temples. Harvey was staring at him expectantly from beside the limo, apparently returned from a short trip around the block, still immaculate in his well-tailored tuxedo. Mike met Harvey's unreadable gaze for about two seconds before he looked away.

Trevor looked like he'd been struck dumb by Harvey, and somehow diminished by the argument even though nothing had changed in the last two minutes.

Mike squashed his instinctive urge to go to Trevor. Harvey was holding the limo door open and Mike wasn't going to disappoint him any more tonight. He leaned down and grabbed his messenger bag and then deliberately turned his back on the wreckage of his second oldest relationship and cleared the short distance back to Harvey.

The cool air when he climbed into the limo helped the pain almost immediately and he nearly oozed further into the interior, grateful there was no console in the middle of the back seat. He dragged his bag after him by the strap and then abandoned it somewhere in the middle of the open area when he hit the other door.

His eyes were closed but he could hear the slide of Harvey's ridiculously expensive tuxedo against the seat as he slid in beside him. The door closed firmly behind him, which was a little harder on his aching head, but the immediate dimming of the lights helped soothe that.

Mike leaned his head against the cool window pane and focused on breathing and calming down. Part of him vindictively whispered that pot would be nice right now, but it was getting easier to ignore that voice every day.

"Sorry," he murmured after a few minutes of quiet, easy riding.

"For what?" Harvey asked, his voice the kind of calm that meant he was deliberately suppressing emotion.

"I don't...that whole thing. You didn't need that."

"Not for going to see Trevor after I told you not to?"

"...yeah," Mike winced. "I didn't...Jenny came to me. She said..." _I was an ass for abandoning them after Trevor nearly got me arrested. That I should've broken every promise I made to my best friend before he gave me a reason to. That I could help him._ There were so many things wrong with the situation, he couldn't even remember what he'd been thinking at the time that he'd actually gone. "It doesn't matter, does it? Yes, I went to see him. It wasn't a happy visit."

"He hit you." It was a statement that still expected clarification.

"Yeah. I mean, we fought."

"...right."

Mike felt less like his head would split open and cracked open his eyes. Harvey was looking toward the front of the car. A passing streetlight threw a bar of white across his chest, black white black, and dragged out along the seat for an instant. Harvey looked over.

Mike forced himself not to look away. "He really did help me a lot," he admitted softly. "In school, I mean. I was a freak. I got good grades for my grandma, so teachers usually loved me. I got beat up kind of constantly when he wasn't around."

Harvey nodded slowly. Not like he was excusing Mike's transgression, but he acknowledged his words. "And in return, he received the loyalty of someone who could help him effortlessly pass all of his classes.

Mike wanted to protest that but recent events had him less inclined to defend Trevor.

Harvey nodded thoughtfully, like he'd made a mental connection, then continued. "And the headaches he mentioned?"

Mike sighed. "I hit puberty and just. God. I get headaches now, but sometimes I couldn't _move_ back then, it hurt so bad. I didn't know how to relax and not...see."

"It comes on when you..."

"Use my freaky memory thing, yeah," Mike smiled faintly. He took a breath and let it out slowly. "Yeah. It was really bad for a while. Now, I can use ibuprofen or Advil and usually keep going: back then, the only things that worked were really expensive prescriptions or..."

"Dulling your mind and slowing your ability to process new information," Harvey supplied.

Mike grunted agreement. "We couldn't afford the doctors and the prescriptions. I knew it, she knew I knew it, but my grandma just told me not to worry about it. I managed to convince her the headaches went away after a while."

"So you've always lied to people who want to help you?"

Mike flinched. He wanted to deny it, but it was true. "With her, we couldn't afford the medicine anymore anyway. It just made her feel better about it."

"Hm."

"With you...I was upset. Ashamed. Sore..." Harvey quirked a brow and Mike sighed. "Yeah, sore. He threw me into a pillar."

Harvey looked at him archly. "So when you say ashamed..."

Mike forced a smile. "A little bit about how badly the fight turned out for me, yeah."

"Hm."

Mike started to relax a bit. If Harvey was going to give him shit, it looked like he'd wait to do it till later. "Uh. Can I..."

Harvey looked at him curiously, head tilted and one eyebrow cocked slightly.

"OK, I know you're mad, but I have to ask. _Sashimi?_ "

Harvey laughed. "Well, you don't look up for any groveling tonight, and there _will_ be groveling, so I guess you'll have to wait and see."

Mike bit his lip. "...ah." _OK, I'll deal with_ that _later then. At least I'm not fired._ His stomach started relaxing.

"I don't mean to keep disappointing you," he said after a few moments of stumbling over the statement in his mind. "I don't...always know what to do. I just want to do the right thing."

Harvey sighed and Mike looked at him again. "There isn't only one _right thing_ to do, Mike. You have to decide what you want for your life and focus on the right thing for that. Normally, I'd make you figure this shit out on your own because I'm not your damn babysitter, but you look like nobody ever told you this in the first place, so: when someone tries to help you, you _listen_ to them. You _trust_ them. You ask them questions if you're not sure about something, and yes, sometimes _you take shit for asking_ , but at least you aren't breaking promises. Do you understand me?"

Mike swallowed hard and nodded.

Harvey looked at him with more genuine emotion than he normally showed, pinning Mike in place with the force of his demand. "This is your last warning about this: Trevor? Gone."

" _Yeah._ Yes. Definitely."

Harvey observed him with that same intensity for a long moment and then nodded. "You're more trouble than I thought you'd be," he said frankly. "If I'd known how it would be before, I never would have hired you."

Mike winced. "I don't--"

Harvey held up a hand, cutting Mike off mid-sentence, and shook his head. "But I did, and since I'm _never_ wrong, you're going to have to prove me right."

Some of the hurt bled off. That was an almost-normal level of abrasive Harvey. "I will."

Harvey nodded once and looked away, like they'd said all they needed to say.

Mike spent the rest of the ride trying to get his feet under him while his headache towed the line at a moderate intensity. After a while, Harvey tapped his shoulder and he blinked, wondering when his attention had drifted away from the present. He realized from the numb patch of his face that he'd started to nod off against the window of the door he was propped against, and that they were now stopped.

"Come on. I have ibuprofen inside."

Mike felt a little better for his brain having dialed down even that much, but the aspirin would still be useful. He waited for Harvey to exit, grabbed his bag and followed him out of the car.

The apartment building was clearly upper class, but it was surprisingly not ostentatious. It leaned toward traditional without going overboard into hoakey. The lobby and the elevator, anyway. Even the security guard was tucked away unobtrusively. Of course, Harvey had the penthouse.

Harvey's apartment, on the other hand... "Oh, my God."

Harvey smiled. "I know."

"This place is crazy," Mike said, walking into a sitting area the size of his entire apartment on S. Manhattan Ave. "Like. Jesus."

He turned around, getting a full scope of the place. It seemed to be inspired by a loft style without the elements of 'starving art student' added. High vaulted walls of a light cream color with wood trim, hardwood floors and an open layout defined largely by furniture and the occasional island or half wall. And _windows._

"That must be awful for hangovers," Mike said with wide eyes, staring at the floor-to-ceiling panes of glass.

Harvey had disappeared down a short hall. His voice echoed faintly, sounding more distant than it should when he spoke. "Not really...and you should see my bedroom."

 _I'd say something about sashimi and potential bathroom exploits, but..._ Mike wasn't sure how things were between them. He wasn't fired, but Harvey was probably still angry.

Movement caught Mike's eye and he looked up as Harvey came back into the open area that constituted living room, den and kitchen. He'd lost his jacket, tie and shoes, and his shirt was unbuttoned at the wrists and two down from the top.

Mike immediately looked away, examining the room again. The couch was the defining "wall" between the den and the living room. It was black leather and looked both indulgently comfortable and, thankfully, long enough. At least he wouldn't be hanging off of it tonight. The couch faced the wall running into the room Harvey had entered, probably the bedroom.

A... _70"_ flat-screen dominated that wall. It was distractingly large, especially compared to the otherwise nearly nonexistent level of...anything. Harvey's den, on the opposite side of his couch was a desk run up to the opposite wall of the one the flat-screen owned, chair tucked up neatly. It was, if possible, even nicer than the one at the office, though the computer tower looked to be the same manufacturer. It was a similar style, anyway, if a little sleeker.

Actually, that was something weird. It was a little off putting. Mike had stuff kind of everywhere in his place. A few pictures of him and his parents from his childhood, several of his grandma, he'd even had a few of him and Trevor and Jenny up before taking them down the night after his near arrest/successful job interview.

Harvey had unobtrusive technology and...two pictures. _Landscapes._ Mike imagined he'd paid more for them than he had for...oh, his _wardrobe_ , maybe, but still. It almost looked like a show room.

It suited the persona Harvey tried to sell, but it was a little disconcerting to someone who knew him well enough to see through that persona.

"Check this out."

Mike blinked, pulling his attention away from the dangerous territory of nearly psycho-analyzing his boss and looked. Harvey was grinning by the large windows Mike had seen almost first thing upon entry. He stood beside a panel with two switches and three dimmer knobs, with a finger resting on the knob closest to the windows. Then he turned the knob slowly.

A low hum, way too faint to be coming from inside the apartment, and Mike stared in disbelief as a set of metal shutters lowered over the window with the slow rotation of the knob. Harvey stopped and the shutters held at a little lower than half down, more than enough to cut off any light in the morning.

Mike shook his head. "You...that is _crazy._ Who offers that as a standard feature? Rhetorical."

Harvey shrugged. "Aoi Enterprises."

Mike quirked an eyebrow at Harvey. "I said it was rhetorical."

Harvey smiled pleasantly, sliding his hands into his pockets. "And I said not to contact Trevor."

Mike winced. "You're going to give me shit about this for a while, aren't you?"

"You'd prefer I fire you instead?"

"I'll do what I have to do to earn your trust," Mike said, stepping forward. "I can take shit detail."

Harvey looked at him searchingly. After a moment, he smirked. "You'll take what I tell you to. Ibuprofen is in the kitchen. You're making breakfast."

Mike's eyes widened. "Uh..." He looked over the island that separated the kitchen from the rest of the apartment and felt numb denial rise at the sleek, alien nature of the appliances. At least he was reasonably sure he could work the stove. If that silver box was the stove, and not the dishwasher. "I can scramble eggs..."

Harvey was already walking back to his room, dimming lights as he went. "Eggs, bacon, fruit. Bathroom's second door on the left."

Mike risked a look back into the monstrously efficient looking kitchen, such a far cry from his stained linoleum and old toaster, and tried to keep his panic out of his voice. "A study from Columbia University actually found a link with bacon and chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. Are you sure--"

Harvey paused by his bedroom door and looked back. "It's turkey bacon. Directions are on the package."

Mike listened to the door close with some resignation, then gave the kitchen a slightly more thorough look through so he would have the layout when he was stumbling around in the morning. He took a good look at the coffee pot to make sure he could work it half awake.

Then he kicked off his shoes and approached the couch.

Harvey's door opened. Mike looked over in time to catch a fleece blanket with his face. "Thanks," he said into the fuzz, tugging it off of his head.

Harvey's response was to throw another balled up piece of fabric, which Mike actually managed to catch.

"I'd tell you not to think about sleeping in your suit, but I know it's a lost cause. Coffee maker is set for 6. Don't mess it up."

Mike was grateful he'd only looked it over. "Right."

"And _don't_ sleep in your suit, for God's sake."

"Got it," Mike said, tossing the blanket onto the couch and shaking out the fabric in his other hand. It unfurled into a t-shirt and a loose flying pair of boxers Mike had to snap out and grab for.

"...right," Harvey said. Mike met his dubious stare with an arched eyebrow. Harvey looked at him frankly. "Tell me again how you're a grown man."

Mike looked at him, weighed the evening and Harvey's earlier expression of masked disappointment against his current...indulgence? Then he held up his middle finger with a pleasant smile.

"When you've convinced me you aren't a total fuck up," Harvey responded mildly, briefly molesting Mike's shoulders with his eyes before he leaned back out of his bedroom door and closed it firmly.

"Thanks, Harvey," Mike called out. "I want you to know that I'm adding this to the _Harvey has a heart_ column."

Silence.

Mike smiled. Harvey was attracted to him. Harvey was _still_ attracted to him. _He's going to bust my ass for this. I may never see my bed again. But...I can work with this._

**Author's Note:**

> Regarding my handle on Mike's entry to the bar, I can't figure out how Harvey could escape disbarment if Mike isn't a member. It isn't a big point or anything, but I wanted to mention it. I've followed some discussion in the meme regarding ways Mike could've entered the bar. Feel free to discuss this in comments.


End file.
